


Must Have Been The Wind

by VictoriaMasson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Theo Raeken, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bartender Derek Hale, Homophobia, Inspired by Lyrics, Inspired by Music, Literally have no idea why I wrote this, M/M, Minor Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, Must Have Been The Wind, Protective Derek, Running Away, by Alec Benjamin, crappy apartments, domestic abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-11 10:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20544695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaMasson/pseuds/VictoriaMasson
Summary: Inspired by Must Have Been The Wind by Alec Benjamin.Derek moves to a new apartment after running away from home. His first night he hears crying and crashing sounds from his upstairs neighbors. When he goes to investigate, a young man named Stiles informs him that he didn't hear anything. Derek's not so sure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song of the same name by Alec Benjamin. I definitely suggest listening to the song before or while reading. I love his music and had the idea that I might do a series of fanfics inspired by each of his songs. 
> 
> Now I'm thinking this fic might need a sequel but who knows lmao
> 
> Have no idea where this came from but enjoy anyway!
> 
> If domestic abuse, homophobia, or running away from home is at all triggering for you. Maybe give this one a miss!
> 
> Thanks for reading :)

Derek looked around at his new apartment. It was old to be sure, but it was also cheap and that was the important thing. It’d only been a month since Derek had left home and he was lucky to have found a place that allowed him to rent with so little a deposit.

He walked into the bathroom; it was muggy - as if the weak air conditioning couldn’t quite reach that corner of the apartment. It probably couldn’t.

He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. Twenty-two years old going on forty. His thick beard and dark circles around his eyes made him look older than he was. Almost made him look as old as he felt.

He could have stayed with his parents, but he was tired of their unrelenting opinions. _‘Your decisions are sinful Derek’_ His mother’s voice rang distant in his ears, _‘The way you’re living isn’t good for your health’ _his dad’s floated in after. He rubbed at his face harshly as if he could erase the words from his memory if he tried hard enough.

Derek had always known there’d be no chance his sexuality would be accepted by his devout Alabama-grown parents. But expecting it and living through it were two different things. The disappointment and hurt were not muffled by the foresight.

He sighed heavily again and made his way to the bedroom. He’d not unpacked, but the few boxes he had weren’t taking up any space. Luckily the apartment had come furnished. Although, one could argue that a bed, a couch, and a single dinky desk and chair didn’t really count as proper furniture… but beggars can’t be choosers.

He’d stolen some bed sheets when he’d left home and smiled at the thought of his mom realizing it. He spread them across the probably-bed-bug-ridden mattress, and promptly fell asleep.

~

The sound of glass shattering against a wall jerked Derek awake. He’d noticed the night before that the walls of the apartment were extremely thin. He’d heard his next-door neighbors talking to each other over dinner when he’d moved the boxes in. This sound, however, came from directly above him.

He looked over to the alarm clock that sat alone and pathetic on his bedside table and the time read 3:47am. Derek waited, but the silence dragged on – and for a moment he’d thought he’d dreamt the sound. He was dozing back off when he heard another crash. He sat up straight in the bed listening closely.

Derek prided himself in having keen hearing. He held his breath so as not to make a sound. It was faint, but he swore he could hear someone crying softly. He looked to the ceiling and knew for certain that the sound was coming from the apartment above him.

Derek wasn’t stupid, he knew better than to put his nose in other people’s business. Especially in a town like this. He laid back down and forced his eyes closed. However, the whisper of sobbing from the person upstairs intruded on his ears and he couldn’t let it go.

Before he could change his mind, he threw back the sheet, stomped out of his apartment and made his way towards the sketchy elevator. Derek pressed the two hesitantly, and the bangs and clicks of the ancient elevator reminded him how bad of an idea this really was.

He made his way to apartment 203, which he assumed was the right one – considering his own was 103. He leaned towards the door and heard the voice of a guy and it sounded like he’d been the one crying. Derek took a deep breath and knocked on the door before he could come to his senses.

After a pause, a young man opened it. He was shorter than Derek, but lean and handsome. He had soft-looking brown hair that was stood in all different directions. He was wearing an over-sized green sweater that was zipped all the way past his chin, hiding the lower part of his face from view.

Derek was struck by the man’s kind eyes – they were a warm honey brown and they reminded Derek of autumn. But the moisture on the man’s eyelashes and the blotchiness of his pale skin snapped Derek out of his trance.

“Can I help you?” The man spoke gingerly, as if speaking at any level above a whisper was dangerous. Derek got the strangest urge to hug him.

“Uhm… yeah. I live right under you and well… I heard some loud crashing.” Derek stated dumbly.

“I’m very sorry sir, we’ll try to keep it down.” The man looked nervously behind him before turning back to Derek.

“No… I mean…” Derek struggled with his words, and the man looked at him curiously, “I just wanted to check you were alright. I heard crying.”

The man’s warm eyes widened, and he anxiously rubbed at his arm when he responded.

“I think your ears are playing tricks on you,” The man laughed lightly, “Thanks for caring, that’s nice of you to check –”

“Stiles!!!” Derek heard a deep, fuming voice interrupt from somewhere in the apartment.

“I gotta go back in. Wish I could tell you about the noise, but I didn’t hear a thing.” The man – _Stiles_ – smiled sweetly behind the sweater, Derek couldn’t see it fully, but he could tell from his eyes. “Must have been the wind.”

And just like that the door was closed in Derek’s face. He waited for another moment and could hear raised voices from inside. He shook his head and headed back to the elevator.

Once he made it to his apartment, he’d noticed that the air had gotten considerably hotter. He walked over to the small window A/C unit and noticed it had shut off. He hit it a few times, but nothing caused it to switch back on.

He walked into the bedroom and had already began to sweat profusely. He took his undershirt off and laid himself on the cold concrete floor, trying to cool himself down.

Derek thought of the man again, in his oversized sweater. Derek was sure it had been Stiles who was crying. He looked at the ceiling and couldn’t stop the worry that washed over him. Could he really leave Stiles alone? Not that Derek knew him, but well… Derek couldn’t bear the thought of leaving _anyone_ alone in that situation.

Derek shook his head again roughly. _You don’t have all the facts. _He reminded himself adamantly. Just because the guy threw glass against the wall didn’t mean he was hitting Stiles. Right? Right.

So Derek picked himself off the floor and fell back onto the bed. He laid awake for an hour longer, keeping an ear out for any other noises. When nothing happened, he fell back asleep.

~

The next day, Derek had resigned himself to unpacking the couple of boxes he had. When he’d left home, he’d packed a few clothes, some books he would never want to part with, a Bluetooth speaker, and small knickknacks from his room. Once he was finished, he took the little money he had and went to the grocery store.

After unloading the groceries, Derek made himself some ramen noodles. He sat on the uncomfortable desk chair and stared out the window. The sun was high in the sky and the apartment was scorching. Derek figured it was midday but didn’t bother to check.

Halfway through his meal, he heard shouting. His head jerked in the direction of his room, where it could be heard the clearest. He followed the sounds and heard another huge crash come from above.

Ramen left forgotten on his bedside table, Derek ran to the elevator and back up to the second floor. He was pounding on the door of 203 before he knew what he was doing.

Stiles answered, wearing a burgundy sweater this time – and it was still shielding his face from Derek. Stiles looked shocked to see him, and once again made a show of looking behind him hesitantly before he turned back to face him.

“I heard some stuff crashing again and shouting. Are you alright?” Derek looked Stiles’ up and down, checking for injuries. Stiles was rubbing his arm again absentmindedly and Derek could bet that if he were to pull the sweater up – he’d find bruises there.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear a thing. Thanks for caring sir, that’s nice of you.” Stiles repeated himself as though the words were a mantra.

“Must have been the wind?” Derek asked, his expression undoubtedly disbelieving. Stiles nodded and chuckled sadly.

“I know a good otolaryngologist if you need.” Derek cocked his head at that, and Stiles laughed loudly and genuinely at Derek’s confusion. “It’s an ear doctor.”

Derek laughed along with Stiles, and for a minute Derek forgot what he’d come there for. It seemed Stiles forgot too, because in the midst of his amusement, he’d let the sweater fall from his face. Derek was taken aback at Stiles’ split lip and bruised jaw. His laughter died and he felt himself gaping at Stiles.

Stiles looked as though he was slapped by Derek’s reaction, and he quickly pulled the zipped sweater back over his lips. Before Derek could speak there was a yell from inside the apartment – the same deep voice from before.

“Stiles! Where’s my fucking lunch. Seriously?” Derek could hear ominous footsteps make their way towards the two of them.

“I gotta go back in, I’ll see you later…”

“Derek.” Derek supplied, his heart pounding in fear for Stiles’ wellbeing.

“I’ll see you later Derek.” Stiles smiled behind the fabric again and closed the door in a rush.

When Derek made it down to his apartment, the guilt was making him sick. Should he call the police? Was that what Stiles wanted? Or was it what Stiles _needed_ and he shouldn’t get a choice because he was being abused and Derek couldn’t just stand by and let it happen.

Derek heard yelling again and an idea hit him. He found his Bluetooth speaker and turned the volume all the way up. He stood on his bed and played Lean on Me to the ceiling. Praying the song would reach Stiles’ ears and that he would know it was for him. That Derek was trying to tell Stiles that he could lean on him if he needed to. That everything would be okay.

When he was done, it had grown quiet again upstairs. Derek held his breath, and when it stayed silent, he walked solemnly to the kitchen. For the rest of the day it felt like the world was weighted down on him. He was dragging his feet against the concrete floor, forcing his eyes open while scanning the newspaper ads for work.

His stomach growled and it made Derek realize that the sun had set and the sky outside his apartment window had turned a shadowy blue. Derek went to examine the kitchen cupboards, and scrounged for something he could make for dinner. He’d bought some spaghetti noodles and store-made tomato sauce before. That would have to do.

As he waited for the water to boil, he heard a knock at his front door. The sound surprised him, and he had to calm himself before he went to answer it.

Stiles was standing on the other side, still wearing the burgundy sweater from before. He was smiling hesitantly, allowing his mouth to be seen this time.

“Hi?” Stiles said it like a question when the silent staring went on too long. Derek wanted to kick himself, he stepped aside and held the door open for him.

“Hey, sorry. Come in.” Stiles took a few steps through the front door and looked around interestedly.

“Sorry to intrude.” Stiles stood awkwardly near the front door, not daring to take another step forward. “Theo’s out for the night… So.” Derek didn’t need to ask who Theo was. He could hazard a guess. “Sorry…” Stiles said again, and he laughed lightly, “I don’t really know why I came down.”

“Do you want something to eat?” Derek walked back towards the water boiling in the kitchen. It wasn’t quite up to a rolling boil… _God this stove sucks._ “It’s just spaghetti. It’s not much.” Stiles looked wide-eyed at Derek.

“Yeah… I mean, that’d be great.” Stiles’ voice was only just above a whisper.

“Great,” Derek repeated the word involuntarily, “Why don’t you sit, I don’t have a dining room table unfortunately, but we can just eat on the couch. Not exactly worried about stains.” Derek huffed at himself, Stiles chuckled back before the tension in his shoulders seemed to fade.

“You’re a kind person Derek.” Stiles smiled at him sadly as he sat himself on the couch, “Though the ‘Lean on Me’ song was a _little_ corny.” Stiles’ eyes were teasing, and Derek felt himself blush.

“You’re here though.” Stiles shrugged in response and laughed self-deprecatingly. “Look, I won’t pry, and I won’t ask again until you’re ready to talk about it. And I’m not playing any sort of game or trying to trick you. You can stay here for an hour, two hours, _indefinitely_ if you need. And I’m always here if you ever need a friend.” Derek took a deep breath after his monologue was over. Stiles was staring at him in wonder.

“You don’t even know me.” Stiles’ words were delicate and breathy.

Derek was smacked with the reality of it. He didn’t know Stiles. Not at all. But something in him was screaming out. He’d felt like maybe he’d known him in another life. He couldn’t figure out what was driving him to help the young man sitting on his couch, the young man who’d been beaten and bruised. God knows Derek had his own problems to sort out, but you can’t argue with fate and you can’t argue with your own instincts. It was instinct that’d told him to leave home – and it was instinct telling him to help now.

“Doesn’t matter.” Derek summed up simply. Stiles looked down and pulled at the sleeves of his sweater until his hands disappeared in them. They sat in comfortable silence while Derek finished dinner. When he sat next to Stiles on the couch and handed him a bowl of spaghetti, Stiles spoke up.

“Thanks again, you know, for caring.” Derek didn’t know how to respond so he just nodded his head.

Derek had bought some beers at the grocery store and after he put the dishes away in the sink, he raised his eyebrows in question at Stiles while holding one of them up. Stiles beamed and agreed eagerly.

“Should I be worried I’m giving alcohol to a minor?” Derek joked as he handed Stiles the beer. “How old are you anyway?”

“I’m twenty-four, you big jerk.” Stiles snatched it out of Derek’s hand and twisted the top off. Derek hummed.

“You’re older than me.” Derek opened his own bottle as he sat back down on the loveseat. Stiles choked a little on his first sip and he looked incredulously at Derek.

“I can’t be.” Derek scoffed a little, feeling a tad insulted.

“How old do you _think_ I am?” Derek asked and sat up a little straighter to give Stiles a better view. Stiles took a good, long look - considering carefully.

“Twenty-eight. At the _youngest._” Stiles was nodding his head, sure of his answer.

“I’m twenty-two.” It was Stiles’ turn to scoff.

“What the hell are you doing in a place like this, all alone, at twenty-two years old?” Stiles’ expression was dubious, and he sounded almost concerned as he asked the question.

Derek had wanted to sneer, ask what _Stiles_ was doing living in a place like this, with an abusive boyfriend, at twenty-_four_ years old. But he held his tongue. He’d promised Stiles he would be a friend to him and that meant not making Stiles feel judged or unsafe. So Derek just shrugged meaningfully.

“I have my reasons.” Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“And those are?” Stiles didn’t hesitate. Derek laughed a little at how nosy Stiles was being, considering he wasn’t willing to talk about his own problems. Stiles must’ve caught on to what Derek was thinking. “Sorry… Theo always says I don’t have a brain-to-mouth filter. I don’t always know when to leave well enough alone.”

Derek felt his hackles rise at the thought of Stiles’ abuser spewing the words – insulting Stiles and making him feel worthless. Derek felt the fury warm his body… or maybe it was the beer. Either way, he decided to open up.

“My parents weren’t exactly _fond_ of my lifestyle. So I left.” Stiles gave a little half-smile, obviously pleased that Derek wasn’t mad at him for prying.

“Your lifestyle?” Stiles asked tentatively.

“I’m gay.” Derek shook his head amusedly, “And from Alabama.”

“Ah.” Stiles was biting his lip and scratching at the back of his head inelegantly. His expression, though, was one of understanding and it’s as if his eyes were saying_ no further explanation needed._

“I know all about that.” Stiles’ voice was tender. “Left Kansas when I was… sixteen, I think.” Stiles stared off behind Derek, into the distance – possibly trying to remember what undoubtedly felt like lifetimes ago to him. “My mom died when I was a kid, and my dad… he just didn’t understand me. He loved me though, and there’s nights when I think I might have jumped the gun. But how do you go back, y’know? After so long.”

Derek shrugged pointedly. He’d only just left, hadn’t really had the chance to question his decision. He liked to believe he could go back one day. See his parents again. Once he was settled and he’d built a life for himself, he wasn’t going to stay away forever.

“He’d be happy to see you.” Stiles looked as though Derek had torn the rug from under him for a moment. Then he blinked back into reality and looked at Derek blankly.

“After eight years?” Stiles’ words were dull, not angry or accusing.

“Better than eigh_teen_ years, right?”

“I guess.” Stiles took a long swig of his beer and Derek watched him gulp down the rest of the bottle a second later. “I better get back. Theo could come home any time.” Stiles took out his cheap-looking flip phone and checked the time.

“Wait…” Derek said urgently, Stiles paused, “Take my number. If you ever need anything… Just call.” Stiles smiled lightly and handed Derek his phone. Before Derek could program his name in, Stiles reached out and grabbed it back.

“Sorry, just gonna put 'Lydia' as the name. She’s our next-door neighbor upstairs. Theo won’t – ”

“I understand.” Derek interrupted so that Stiles didn’t have to explain. Stiles smiled at him gratefully before programming his own number in Derek’s phone.

“Thanks again Derek.” Stiles made his way to the front door, and Derek followed after him. Stiles grabbed the handle, but before opening the door, he turned around to Derek abruptly.

Stiles stood on his tippy toes and cautiously placed a kiss on Derek’s cheek.

“Seriously. Thanks.” Derek felt his heart skip a beat at the proximity, he felt his cheeks reddening at the touch.

“Course.” Was all Derek could manage to say. Stiles gave another beautiful and playful half smirk before making his way out the door. Derek stared at the empty space for what felt like an eternity.

~

Later that night, around three in the morning – Derek was jerked awake once again. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, the room was unbearably hot even though the sun had long left the sky. He listened intently and could hear the sound of Stiles sobbing again. He reached for his phone.

He took a moment to wonder if it was safe to message Stiles. If Theo would be there and grab the phone from Stiles’ hand. He decided to text something inconspicuous. Something that could ostensibly come from Lydia.

**To Stiles:_ Heard weird noises from next door. You alright? _**

Derek got a reply immediately and he wanted to scream in frustration. The words were bright and offending on his screen.

**From Stiles: _All good, have no idea what you heard._**

Derek wanted to text back that Stiles was a liar, he wanted to take the elevator upstairs and demand to know what was happening. But then he remembered his promise.

**To Stiles:_ Must have been the wind._**


	2. Chapter 2

Derek had managed to land a bartending gig at a swanky bar downtown. He didn’t love bartending – the club music left his ears ringing for hours, and the lowered inhibitions of drunken men and women edged on his nerves. But the money was good, and the employers cared less about experience and more about putting good-looking people behind the bar.

He’d gotten used to the routine of his new life. Ramen for lunch, sandwiches or cheap pasta for dinner, endless night shifts at the bar. All the while, thinking about Stiles, his parents, and everything that he couldn’t control. He still woke every night to the sound of Stiles and his _boyfriend_ fighting. He often wondered when Stiles got the chance to sleep.

He would text Stiles occasionally, but it was always guarded. Making sure that each text was as discreet as possible. Stiles hadn’t visited since the night they ate dinner together. And Derek couldn’t deny that he longed to see him again.

It was three weeks later when he decided to go knocking on Stiles’ apartment door. He had waited to make his way upstairs until the sounds of shouting died down, and until he could hear the second set of footsteps fade into the hallway.

When Stiles opened the door, an open and candid grin spread across his face.

It was early in the morning, and Stiles was wearing a long robe as opposed to the oversized sweaters Derek had seen him in before. Stiles didn’t bother to cover the bruise healing on his jaw, and Derek was glad to see that a fresh one hadn’t replaced it.

“Hey Derek,” Stiles seemed to smile wider, and Derek couldn’t help but mirror the expression. “Theo just went… well he’s not here.” Stiles summed up while gesturing uncomfortably.

The motion caused the arm of Stiles’ robe to fall slightly, and Derek could see a dark bruise hidden in the fabric. Derek forced himself to look away from Stiles’ arm but not before Stiles caught him looking. He pulled at the sleeve until it covered down to his fingers.

“I’m such a klutz. Ran into that archway in the kitchen, you know the one in the – the same… the same one you have.” Stiles tripped over his words as he looked down, probably making sure the robe was covering all other incriminating areas.

“You don’t have to do that.” Derek reminded him and Stiles looked away sheepishly.

“So what can I do for you?” Stiles prompted when the silence grew uneasy.

“Well, I was wondering,” Derek began, now tugging at his own sleeves nervously, “I got a new bartending job downtown, the bars pretty posh but the drinks are good. So’s the food.” Derek was definitely rambling, and it didn’t help that Stiles was staring at him inquisitively, his honey brown eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Congrats.” Stiles stated simply, and Derek cocked his head to the side. “On the new job.” Stiles specified.

“Oh, yeah… thanks.” Derek really should’ve put more thought into this. “Look, basically they give all the new employees these free drink vouchers to give to anyone they want. Obviously I don’t have anyone, so I thought maybe, if you wanted to…” Derek’s voice trailed off at the look on Stiles’ face.

Stiles had his eyes fixed on his feet, but his head was still tilted upwards so Derek could see his expression clearly. It was one of want, and his eyes were excruciatingly unhappy.

It looked as though the weight of the world was on Stiles’ shoulders, and the strength needed to carry it was slowly slipping from Stiles’ body. With every shred he lost, the darker and farther away his eyes traveled as he zoned out on the floor.

“It’s okay.” Derek uttered the words without meaning to, the misery in Stiles’ reaction becoming unbearable.

“No!” Stiles head snapped back upward and he looked frantic. “I definitely want to. I’d love to. Wh… When?”

“Well, I mean – I have work tonight?” Derek shrugged purposely, attempting to keep the invitation light and pressure-free. “Start at five.”

“Alright, yeah. I’ll... uh… I’ll try, okay?” Derek nodded before grabbing a hold of Stiles’ shoulder gently. Stiles flinched at first but then Derek swore he leaned into the touch.

“That sounds great, I hope you can make it.” Derek began rubbing Stiles’ shoulder consolingly in tentative little circles. “Are you okay?”

Stiles grabbed a hold of Derek’s hand and squeezed it significantly. He nodded his head in confirmation a minute later. By the time he’d let go, Derek’s hand was on fire: the touch from Stiles’ skin leaving a brand on him.

He wanted to reach out and touch some more, to erase all the hurt. To run his hands down every bruise that Stiles was trying to hide, use them to replace the memory of whatever caused the affliction.

“Well, hopefully I see you tonight. The bar’s called Tipsy Cobra.” Stiles nodded once again. Derek gave Stiles a last once over before heading back down the hall. He prayed Stiles would make it out – not only because he wanted to see him more, but also because Stiles desperately deserved a good time.

~

The bar was packed. Saturday nights usually were. Derek should’ve been happy since he was making good money – but the volume was piercing and Derek couldn’t help glancing at the front door every time it opened, hoping to see Stiles walking in.

By the middle of his shift, he’d trained his eyes away from the entrance and was attempting to swallow down the disappointment as each moment went by and Stiles hadn’t arrived. _He said he’d try, not that he’d definitely be here._ He reminded himself stubbornly.

Suddenly, a good-looking man sat down at his end of the bar. Brows furrowed and expression put-upon. Derek could relate. He approached the man, whose light blue eyes were striking even in the dim lighting.

The man’s dirty blonde hair was styled expertly, and Derek could tell he had a nice build. He wasn’t quite Derek’s type – but he was undeniably handsome. Derek put a beverage napkin in front of the man, drawing his attention.

“Rough night?” Derek spoke the cliché line from over the bar; the man looked up and huffed.

“Boyfriend’s being a pain.” The man answered, rubbing at his temples for emphasis. Derek let out a little laugh.

“Least you’ve got someone.” Derek hadn’t meant for it to sound as pitiful as it did, but the man just laughed along and so Derek didn’t dwell on his choice of words for too long.

“Well, do yourself a favor and stay single my friend. Less of a headache that way.” The man ran a hand through his hair and took a moment to look towards the restrooms – presumably waiting for his boyfriend to resurface.

“I’ll keep that in mind, though it’s not really been an issue as of late.” Derek chuckled at himself, “What can I get for ya?”

“Eh, an old-fashioned, house whiskey is fine.” The man took a break from looking around to place his order and Derek got to work.

When he’d placed the cocktail in front of the man, the man leveled him with an assessing gaze.

“Have I seen you before?” The man asked casually. Derek shrugged.

“Probably not, just moved here a month ago.”

“Ah! I knew you looked familiar, you moved into the Evergreen apartments right? First floor?” Derek’s hands stilled on the glass he’d been polishing to look up at the man in shock. “Yeah, saw you moving in. We live there too.”

“You and your boyfriend?” Derek questioned, he couldn’t help the lump that was forming in his throat. This man couldn’t be Stiles’ _abusive _boyfriend. There was no chance. There could be other same-sex couples living in the Evergreen apartments. Derek was just jumping to conclusions.

As Derek was falling down a spiral of denial, a familiar face caught his eye and he looked behind the man to see Stiles walking delicately through the crowd of people. It was sweltering outside and somehow even hotter _inside_ the bar but Stiles was wearing a long sleeved shirt, that was entirely too big on him, and skinny jeans regardless.

Stiles met Derek’s eye and beamed. The man turned around to take a look at what Derek was staring at. The nerves that were creeping into his stomach at the idea that he’d been making light conversation with Stiles’ abuser settled uncomfortably as his suspicions were confirmed.

Stiles’ smile fell slightly as he looked away from Derek but he quickly made his way over to his boyfriend sitting at Derek’s bar. The man – _Theo_ – wrapped his arms possessively around Stiles’ shoulders.

“What took you so long?” Theo grabbed a hold of Stiles’ chin firmly; to anyone else it might’ve looked romantic and good-humored. But Derek knew better. Stiles stole a glance at Derek before licking his lips fretfully. Derek watched Theo track the movement.

“Had to wait in line, there are a lot of people here. It’s a single bathroom.” Stiles leaned forward to kiss Theo’s lips softly, as if trying to placate him. Theo pulled Stiles chin up so that he had him at a better angle.

“That would be why I told you to go before we left the apartment.” Theo’s words were whispered, Derek could barely hear him – he was sure that had he not been paying such close attention, he would’ve missed it.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles’ eyes looked around at everyone surrounding the two of them. Derek could only assume that Stiles was grateful for the audience. Theo let his hand slide from Stiles’ chin to his cheek, holding his face and looking at him almost… _fondly_.

“I’m sure you can make it up to me.” Theo purred in Stiles’ face before capturing his lips. Derek knew he shouldn’t be staring, shouldn’t be tuned in to the scene in front of him. But he couldn’t help himself.

He watched in horror as Theo’s hands traveled down Stiles’ back, pausing at his waist and gripping tightly. _Too tightly_. Derek could see Stiles wince at the embrace, but it was mixed with a groan that a passerby might assume was one of pleasure.

When Theo pulled off, he let Stiles climb onto the chair next to him before placing a hand high on Stiles’ thigh. Theo looked back to Derek and smirked proudly at him, his eyebrows raised in the unspoken question: _isn’t my boyfriend gorgeous?_

_Yes. Yes he is._ Derek thought to himself sadly, before turning his attention to Stiles, who was still sending Derek a private smile when Theo wasn’t looking.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Theo put a hand out over the bar; Derek had to will his body to accommodate. He extended his hand in greeting.

“It’s Derek.” Derek ground out, forcing himself to smile.

“I’m Theo, this is Stiles, my boyfriend.” Stiles put his hand out pointedly; Derek shook it – playing along for Stiles’ sake. “Stiles, Derek lives in our apartment. Just moved there a month ago.” Stiles nodded but didn’t say a word.

“What can I get you Stiles?” Derek placed a beverage napkin in front of Stiles this time, and leaned as far forward as the counter between them would allow.

“He’ll have a house vodka cranberry.” Theo ordered for him. Derek felt his jaw clench but smiled obligingly and grabbed a hold of the grey goose with a white-knuckled fist.

A few more people sat on his end of the bar after he’d made Stiles’ drink - young women who were giggling wildly and whispering every time Derek came over. But Derek didn’t have time to flirt for tips, as he was too busy keeping a keen eye on Theo and Stiles.

They were conversing easily, Derek couldn’t eavesdrop from so far away – but he could see Theo leaning into Stiles to whisper in his ear. Could see Stiles grin shyly, and let out slight chuckles at the words Theo was sharing.

Derek was shell-shocked at how normal they looked. He would never think they were anything but a happy, _cute _couple if he didn’t know the truth. Occasionally Derek would pick up on the cues. Stiles’ flinches when Theo talked with his hands, the constant touching and domineering body language. But you had to _know _it to see it.

Finally, Theo excused himself to the restroom. Luckily, no new patrons had sat down and so Derek made his way to Stiles immediately.

“So… you made it.” Derek smirked at him.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t, well, I didn’t exactly tell him that we were here meeting someone.” Stiles smiled guiltily, and rubbed subconsciously at his leg where Theo’s hand had been resting for the last hour.

“What exactly _did_ you tell him?” Derek couldn’t help but ask. It was, after all, a pretty weird situation and he almost wished Stiles just hadn’t of come. Rather than lie, and drag Theo here too. Though… Derek realized that that was probably the _only_ way Stiles could’ve come.

“Just that there was this bar that Lydia told me about, said it’d been too long since he took me out on a date.” Stiles bit his lip hard, as if he could read Derek’s mind and was ashamed for bringing Theo there.

“And what were you gonna tell him about the free drinks?” Derek let out an amused scoff.

“Hadn’t thought that far. Didn’t think he’d agree honestly.” Stiles was wiping the condensation off the edges of his glass, avoiding Derek’s eyes.

“Well, luckily – it seems like _Theo_ likes me well enough. I can probably offer to buy a round without it being weird.” Stiles looked hopefully at Derek, even as he pointedly ignored the scorned way Derek said his boyfriend’s name.

“Thanks, Derek. Sorry for… well sorry for not being able to come alone. We don’t really go out alone.”

“You mean _you_ don’t.” The atmosphere of the bar must’ve been wearing down Derek’s patience but he wanted to take the words back as soon as he’d said them. He shouldn’t take his frustration out on Stiles. Lord knows Stiles was already taking the brunt of Theo’s irritations.

Before Stiles could respond, Theo appeared back at his side. Theo placed a hand on the back of Stiles’ neck and Stiles went rigid at the touch.

“Stiles talking your ear off?” Theo teased, question directed at Derek, but Theo’s eyes never left Stiles’ face. “He can be very chatty.” Derek didn’t trust the sharpness to his voice, it was tongue-in-cheek mostly, but there was something else hidden in-between the words.

“Was just asking if he wanted another drink actually. Next rounds on me.” Derek picked up Stiles’ empty glass and placed it carefully in the dishwasher underneath him.

“A free round?” Theo’s eyebrows shot up and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Derek could see his hand was tightening on Stiles’ neck, and he was pulling him closer. “Stiles, you’re not flirting for free drinks again are you?” Theo laughed, and if Derek were naïve – he would think it was genuine.

But there was anger underneath those clear blue eyes. The jealousy shone through, transparent as anything. Derek looked to Stiles, and could tell he was panicking. Stiles wasn’t as good at hiding his emotions. Derek had to do something, and quick.

“Not at all, just wanted to repay you for your advice before.” Derek winked and gave a half smirk to Theo, playing up the whole _thanks for the warning_ act. Theo seemed to be fooled, letting go of Stiles’ neck to reach across the bar and give a friendly smack to Derek’s bicep instead.

“Hah, no problem man. Seriously, more trouble than they’re worth.” Theo winked back at Derek and although Derek had been the one to mention it – the reminder that Theo had talked about Stiles like he was some kind of inconvenience made Derek’s blood boil. “But no thanks on the second round, think it’s about time we head out. How much do we owe you?”

“Already?” Stiles spoke up, his voice quiet and his eyes pleading. Derek wanted to scream at him. Tell him that Theo didn’t deserve his kindness or his tolerance. Theo turned on Stiles with a serious look.

“The first round’ll be on me then. You’re all set.” Derek interrupted before Theo could say anything.

“Thanks Derek.” Stiles said again, and he got up from the chair. Theo reached out to shake Derek’s hand once more.

“Hey, let us know if you need anything alright? Apartment 203. We’ll see ya!” Theo waved before leading Stiles out by one hand on the small of his back and his other hand grabbing onto Stiles’ forearm.

When they reached the exit, Stiles took a look back and made eye contact with him. Derek felt the tension leave his shoulders momentarily, as the encounter was finally over.

Only to have the tension return at the idea that he would hear them fighting again tonight – a face to the name, and no closer to helping Stiles out of this.

He sighed loudly and ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

~

By the time Derek had finished cleaning the bar and divvying up the tips, it was 4:00am. He waved goodbye to his co-workers tiredly and made his way home.

When he arrived, Stiles was sitting on the floor in front of his door, wearing a black hoodie and sweat pants. Derek rubbed at his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating before crouching down to look at him. Stiles was asleep, the hoodie pulled over his face, blocking the fluorescents from his eyes. Derek reached out and shook him gently.

“Stiles?” Derek shook a little harder and Stiles jerked awake. He sat up straight, no longer leaning on the door – and his hoodie fell off his head at the motion. It was then that Derek could see the black eye Stiles was sporting. Derek involuntarily leaned forward and cupped Stiles’ cheek to get a better look. “What the hell happened?”

Stiles pushed Derek’s hand off his face, before standing up and letting himself lean on the door for support.

“I just need a place to crash, I know you offered before but if you don’t wanna – I can figure something else out.” Stiles was whispering as though he was afraid someone else was listening in. Although with these thin walls, it was possible.

“No, of course you can stay.” Derek’s hands were shaking as he placed his key and unlocked the door. An array of emotions washed over his body: guilt – worried that Stiles was hit because of him – excitement – did this mean Stiles and Theo were over – anxiety – what was Stiles thinking, how was he feeling, and how in the world could Derek make him feel any better?

Stiles walked in and made a beeline for the couch. He was holding onto his side gingerly and Derek was terrified to find out why.

“Want a beer?” Derek offered while opening his own.

“Why not.” Stiles leaned his head back against the couch and let out a long breath. Derek sat down slowly, not wanting to startle him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek spoke softly. Stiles huffed and rolled his head until it landed facing towards Derek – his expression nonplussed.

“What do you think?” Derek couldn’t fight his eye roll at that. He raised his fingers to Stiles’ eye and grazed the tips of them against the bruised skin.

“Thought he was smarter than this. Can’t exactly hide this one.” Derek sneered, his voice deadly.

“He’s usually more careful.” Stiles breathed the words, as if he hadn’t given them permission to escape his lips. Stiles pushed his head into Derek’s hand; Derek threaded his fingers in Stiles’ soft hair obligingly. Stiles’ eyes fluttered closed and his mouth fell open slightly.

“Can I?” Stiles opened his eyes and looked down at where Derek was inching his other hand towards Stiles’ hoodie. Stiles’ eyes widened but soon he was shrugging indifferently. Derek lifted Stiles’ hoodie, along with his shirt. There were old bruises, yellow and faded but the one that caught Derek’s eye was new.

Just over Stiles’ right side, there was a gnarly welt forming, the skin still pink with the force of the blow. Derek went to graze his fingers over the spot like he’d done with Stiles’ black eye but he stopped just short of touching the skin.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles laughed loudly in response. Derek let it slide. “If you’d let me, I’d take care of hi–” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand away from his hoodie and linked their fingers, stunting Derek’s words.

“This is enough.” Stiles murmured weakly. Derek was worrying the flesh of his bottom lip with his teeth roughly. Stiles' eyes were drawn to the movement. Derek’s body was being pulled towards Stiles in a magnetism too strong for his common sense to fight. Derek pressed his lips against Stiles’ delicately, a barely-there brush of a kiss.

Derek could hear Stiles’ sharp intake of breath and he opened his eyes. Stiles was staring at him in wonder, his pupils dilated and expression lustful. It was almost too much for Derek to handle.

“You should get some sleep.” Derek whispered against Stiles’ lips. He wanted Stiles more than anything… but not like this. Not when Stiles’ body was beaten and aching, and he couldn’t make a rational decision about what he wanted.

Derek stood, his body urging him to stay in Stiles’ embrace. Stiles was letting his head fall back again, and when his breathing became even faster than Derek expected – he knew he’d made the right choice. He took the sheet off his bed and placed it on Stiles tenderly. The apartment was still hot – Derek didn’t need a sheet anyway.

~

Derek woke the next morning with a start. The reality of what had happened the night before hitting him hard. He rose from the bed and made his way quietly to the living room.

Stiles was gone. The sheet left forgotten on the couch and the front door unlocked. He walked back into his bedroom and listened for the sound of movement from above.

Just barely, he could hear the sound of two voices speaking quickly. He couldn’t make out the words but he’d listened in enough over the past few weeks to know that it was the sound of Stiles and Theo arguing.

Stiles had gone back.


End file.
